Our castle was sparkling, but it was only sand. So when the waves came it could not withstand. Hands on the steering, mind on the past; Wondering why eternity does not last. Thinking of the dark days with unfulfilled wishes; Cut through them the poesy, the promises and gentle kisses. The link wasn’t snapped for the baby’s sake, Memories in the night keep me awake. We lived apart with bandaged hearts, Some stories end before they start.
Some screams stem from the depth of your being; Some glasses smash simply from witnessing. Some tears intoxicate stronger than wine, All broken pieces, have their own kind of shine. And all those scars are kind of more cruel, Inflicted on you by your precious jewels. I stabbed yet my soul bleeds, Thinking of the days when our love was in seeds.
Ego charred the castle; “we” smashed in the tussle. Stuck in a world – black and white, Do you too feel like, quitting the fight? And all those nights I was trying, Is it true you too were crying? The day that pronounced us man and wife, Will I ever see that passion again in this life? Yet my baby has conjured this occasion, We’re a decrepit building, closed for renovation.
(Personal note : Hey people! I hope you are doing good 💫🧡 I know I’m posting after a really long time… had my exams. But we’re back! This piece is the first one that I wrote about a song. This is the story that plays in my head whenever I listen to that song.
It’s a Beyoncé song. Can you guess what it is? Comment if you know!)
Do dreams fabricate only in your bosom or are they too timid to step out in the glare of the day? I see them untangling themselves from the unfathomable labyrinths, enticing man to chase them. Oh, how lucrative they are, with a diamond-like sparkle! Suddenly my heart thuds with desire: to clasp them, hold them and declare them mine. I throw my arms at you, dear night, but alas you are a renegade. My fingers hold nothing but oblivion in your treacherous darkness, so abysmally profound. Is that how you came to be the metaphor for gloom? They say you are vain. That the moon in the nocturnal firmament is the pride of your life. I find your beauty to be atypical and of a melancholic kind. The stars you have speckled on infinity’s breast are credited to be the author of fate. So when they twinkle in your heart, I wonder if the falling one grants wishes or is it merely a farce? They say you drink in hope and leave earth in despair. Still, though I hear it all and see it too, I couldn’t help falling in love with you. No, you are no gallant lover. You are brutal and crude. They look for beauty in the light, I fell for the aggressive and authentic type. They wait for dawn, I yearn for dusk. For wrapped in you, and your silver light, my wings grow and my pen writes – that which the heart whispers and only the mind can see – in the depth of the night I fly to the world of fantasy. You are not my charming Prince. You are eerie and formidable all right. As I look into your eyes, my body shivers, and my heart accelerates. There’s a weird exhilaration about that feeling and I covet it over and over again. Truth is a black pearl just like you. Dark and bitter but beautiful too. In you I find truth, in your blinking pearls, hope and in the constellations that adorn your attire I hide my destiny. I hope to be your friend and that of your moon. Her streaks can heal all of my wounds. Her caress will make me glow in her light and inspire my resilience to keep up the fight.
She laughs in pain. She splatters her pieces with tears And drowns in them. She doesn’t fake a smile, She’s in love with falling down and rising again. She sprinkles her losses all around And they sprout as gains. The scars can heal; But something remains. And she, she’s in love with these very stains.
The beauty of a broken heart; The end of an epoch and a fresh new start. The memories that tear you apart; She loads them in a cart, And seals them in a mending heart.
She doesn’t miss she only reminisces, The incandescent days, that left her in pieces. She came to know her lair , her paradise, With time had swelled then melt like ice. She smiles and looks at the stream Yes, forever is true, but in a dream.
The scars tell her story. We understate pain’s glory. She smiles in pain, And she smiles again. Truth is her wound, truth is her light Truth is sacrosanct, it is her only right.
Just wanted to say, “Hey” and “I hope you’re fine”. When I bowed to your heart, you shattered mine. With your new dawn, happiness will shine, I’ll be drinking tears in glasses of wine.
Letting it go was to let a part of me fly The tears have dried, I no longer cry Yet a thought is born each day, and each day it dies So I ask you now : “Were you hurt, by all the goodbyes?”
The nights that daily memories steal, Are simply vacant ’cause I no longer feel. If you are hurt, my muse will serenade you till you heal; My verses only weep these days, they’ve lost their appeal.
Yet broken sonnets have their own rhythm I’m learning to love the pain of freedom.
Ps: This piece was written sometime back directly from the heart. Since then I have made numerous edits and it probably looks very different from what it used to when it was first born. Yet as a budding poet, I aspire to forge links of authenticity and honesty with my readers and put the vulnerability, that is a key ornament of the truth, out for them to read and relate to… I have an intuitive desire to share the raw, flawed, unedited version with you all, but I’m not sure…
So, if you want the unfiltered version – to feel what I felt whenI wrote it, or to see how this piece stipled with imperfections grew from a gibberish of inchoate, uncomprehended emotions – comment down below!!!
If we reach sufficient comments (let’s say 60🤔) I’ll post the raw version 🤭
My heart of glass, couldn’t stand the heat; Of reality’s rage on the deceptive treats. Days ran vintage like a celluloid reel, I never saw the profit under forever’s seal.
Gold times rusted like an iron key, Toxic it was, but I was still me. The scars have aged and paled like death; I suck in pain with every breath.
And I talk to the old times still at night, That time we used to stay up to make up and fight. And I gotta be real it’s no longer true, They miss the dead the way I miss you.
I can’t confront the unread texts. Each time I try something breaks. A part of me wants to see you again, And a part is trying to elude that pain.
Together on the crest and together at the trough, But then it just faded and I don’t know how. Those evanescent memories still haunt me at night; But life flows on, we’ll move on alright!
“Twinkle twinkle little star” I really wonder what you are??
It was on a flight that I realised, it’s just the perspective and we are all stars. When I look up from roots I see a canopy of pearls bedecking infinity’s abysmal profundity like an ethereal diamanté. When I soar among the clouds, I look down and see: the same celestial sparkle of a galaxy of tiny glimmering lights! This befuddled my mind.
What then is the real star? The light within who we are? My tiny abode, from above looks divine At the window, there’s a heart that yearns to shine You just need to turn this upside down And the queen’s on the floor, the slave’s got the crown.
I fly like a free bird though chained to a luxurious seat Visions of flying without shackles give my soul a treat
Angels were the envy of me, They roved the lands, I pined to see. With echoes of enigma, The yonder lands. Seraphic, sequestered, Elusive to human hands .
One day a vellichor tickled my senses, And then did I discern; The ecstasy that I yearn, Lies not beyond the horizon to look, It masquerades in the garb of a book.
Queen of the nocturnal firmament, Stars garnish your resplendent garment. You trifle with the romantics, Enthral them with your antics. Nor poets nor lovers can get enough of you ; “Moon-like beauty”, they say, but is it ever true? Tu es la beauté , yet stippled with flaws. A glamour that transcends the perfectionist laws. In the confounding depths of infinity, You are a glimmering orb of hope. I write for you, in awe of your halo; A seraphic beauty the clouds endeavour to swallow. You light up the otherwise despairing night, To the rueful hearts you’re an emollient sight. You are the glory of the poet’s pen, Keep us on our feet , till we see you again. Are you demure or full of pride? Why disappear in darkness ; my lost guide? Oh, you are a mirror of the ways of life! There’s no light but we can still survive. And then there’s you on a full moon night, A blooming beauty , a treat to the sight. The reward for those who still push on, And wait for you , while you are gone!
I secretly admire that agonizing sensation in the body termed as ‘pain’ . That excruciating experience, I see it as the adolescence of strength and adolescence is the metamorphosis of man. As I languish in a hospital bed, I think it is a weird place. The mirth of birth is starkly juxtaposed with heart wrenching cries of bereavement. The clamour of the state of the art science is trysting with the mellifluous melodies of Christian hymns. My ears feast on applause and singing, it’s a birthday and they are celebrating but yesterday in the melancholic light, before christ, ere I arrived in my acting abode, fleetingly I saw the face of a woman, bowed down, kindling a candle she was fervently praying.
I’m stuck in a weird place. Prayers, pain Some doctor’s disdain. Smiles, tears Clutching hope in fingers so dear. Has made this abode a state of grace. Paramount surrender has yet its magic to manifest I’m in a place where human life is but a game of chess But all these earnest wishes rest assured will one day yield success.
Hospital is indeed a miraculous place. And the people who make miracles happen there, I dedicate this post to them. They celebrate birth, they harden their hearts so as to not weep at death. During these testing times they have provided us with an unparalleled service. Humanity feels honoured by your dedication.
Thank You so much for risking your lives.
May the precious souls lost in covid rest in peace. Strength to their families and may all injustice be compensated for on judgement day.
She wore a skirt too short and a top with a long neck. And she topped it off with a bold lip, the shade of dark red. She had lovely eyes, their expression deep and somewhere in the profundity was hidden a vault full of dreams. Her smile was her strongest allure, a spring of courage and hope. Her steps spoke of elegance, a beauty like a blooming grove. She walks alone on her bed of thorns, earns every penny and builds her home. She sweats to hold her world in place but they see only the man-entrancing perfume. They abused her mom for her dearth of sense. In the world of men how dare she carry a lip so red!?
Mom is a lone mother raising her child. Feeding her smiles gulping her cries. She works like her father but dresses like a wife. She is a business lady all day long but when shadow falls she’s back to being a mom. Time flew in these busy ways. She taught her little one, one by one : hope, struggle and life. Alas! She forgot the essential thing, that character dances atop the wedding ring, and it’s estimate is done on the scale of skirt length.
The beauty walked in a restaurant to dine. The people there were dazzled by her shine. The street boys did whistle and jeer a little. But it was the people of her own kind, who started to belittle. They slandered her disposition, and reduced her with all her dreams; To a mere provocative being. The spring of hope became a source of seduction. The doomed kind who ask for attention. She was obviously a creature who asked for it. “Look at clothes, how tight they fit!” Brutal assaults and filthy touches Choking under the diabolic clutches. Stabbed, pierced and burnt alive. Keep her dreams for another life.
Ha! Preposterous this world truly is, they fail to realise : the butcher of wings cannot fly. The chains on her can ensnare your own life. Words echo and deeds ricochet. The net that catches your prey, might capture you too someday.
It was all in a dream the other day. The rustic path was dimly lit with the glow of a setting sun. Walking by my side in the winding way, the escort angel was singing a lullaby. She said, “You are born a woman. Understand the honest purpose of your life. You were born to garnish the barebone mankind. You live to serve aesthetic pleasure to all those who behold you. Therefore prink yourself accordingly before you step out. You are worthy just like the pearl in your choker. You are the soothing serenade to the slumbering earth. Your steps are encumbered but artfully so by the albatross of embodying perfection. You are the art of an artist’s hand, the arc of your eyes, the line of your lips, the soft colour, the paleness of your skin culminate to structure beauty. And if the artist a blunder made and your skin is not the correct shade worry not little weakling, votre maquillage vous sauvera. A dulcet tone, demure eyes, rouge cheeks and alluring smile, like a blooming flower you shall appeal to human eyes. Yet angel mark these words the devil, she will come, vindictive and full of vice. She will rip your apparel and stain your name. The wild maenad and won’t stop at a thing to tarnish your beauty and win your fame. Careful! For fatal she could be like Greek Athena to filthy Medusa. Confront her like a rabid dog, do not let her escape. Keep in mind however, rose sting with your thornes only those witches that dare to bloom over you. For the man you preserve your petals. Obscenity is not your thing, you are a pristine being. Purity emblazones your sleek frame. Remain forever grateful little flower, you were allowed to spread your calyx, not nipped in the bud.”
The darkness around was steadying . My mind was buzzing with her song. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Will I stand a chance in the arena of perfection that I was walking into? How strong will my opponent fiend be? Oh among so many flowers will I catch the eye of the man? A timid voice that was deep inside was making a few last feeble attempts to tell me “You are a woman! A flame not a flower. You burn alone, you light the way. You shine so bright you dazzle their eyes. Perfection is what you are. And you are a flame not a flower.” I was embracing the darkness around to keep off the cold but it froze my insides. The darkness was deepening , when suddenly cutting through the dark the sun flashed in the sky, the last glow of twilight. The flame stung my eyes, the heat melted my iced brain. The dying voice found a new strength. ” But who laid these doctrines down that only a lady is to follow? And who assigned these critiques to chase me with a judgement sheet? Why so much contempt in their glare? Why am I to still put on this garment of perfection though it hurts my stride? Why can’t I step out of my doors on the risky night? And what if in a mindless battle I don’t want to fight ? ” I heard my voice question
Startled the angel uttered a cry, “Heavens forbid! If she lives all beauty shall die! She will inflame young minds, the wild fire shall reduce all the grace to ashes. Oh the shame your family is to bear! Shut for heaven’s sake another word I shall not hear. ” But my timid voice was roaring then, ” Beauty is not butchered in human hands. It resides deep inside shielded from your lethal touch”. She blew words to smother my fire but they made it burn only brighter…
“I am a flame not a flower Not a pretty face a vault of power You can try with your all to keep my strength down, but I shall rise up from the ground. Hear my voice, this is no serenade. The screams you tried to stifle have turned to a grenade. Victim, I am of your social intrigues, It hurts to bleed each month, my body fatigues. I get no extra care. Act like the pain is just not there. It drains me out this unpaid acting, and then you say she’s weak and needs protecting. Your touch to my skin feels like the jab of a knife. I’m tired of being just a wife. Don’t wanna bathe in your filthy attention. Let the jealous ones know I’m not their competition. I am a woman, that word itself screams power. Sweating to live not thriving on dower. My strength was buried deep all this time Watch truth pulverise the shackles, it’s time for me to shine.”
Stupefied the angel watched me go. I walked the remaining road all alone. The light at the end beakoned to me. My timid voice was then breathing fire. I roared to the earth : “I am a flame not a flower”
Dear Rose, Crimson is the colour of your petals The shade my lips envy The colour of victorian blood Emanating, gallantry Your radiant allure has put me in a trance Like a frozen time of lovers’ dance At the crack of dawn, gold kissed your wings The most enchanting spectacle of all worldly things My heart told the tale of my first love’s kiss As the eyes beheld the lingering mist
I met her in my garden! And here’s a free verse I wrote for her ❤️
Roads Not Taken🍁🍂🍀 